Solid Ground
by Illyria Lives
Summary: It used to be so simple, before Korra. I would run towards whatever solid ground I could find, stand steady, no questions. But now, I can't help but feel that perhaps I'm running in the wrong direction. Rated for language.


**Title: **Solid Ground, or: Run Like Hell

**Author: **Illyria Lives

**Rating: **T, for language.

**Summary:** It used to be so simple, before. But now, I can't help but feel that I'm running in the wrong direction. Mako-centric. Rated for language.

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><p>Growing up, my response to nearly everything was simple:<p>

Police chasing after you?

_Run like hell._

Triads tracking you down?

_Run like hell._

Your little brother pissing off huge earthbenders again?

_Run like hell._

But in the ring, you can't run. You can dodge and you can block, sure. You can be driven back, step by step, but after that, you're done. No more money. No more fame. No more solid ground beneath your feet—in both a metaphorical and a literal sense. You'll hit water from two stories up, and if you don't do it right, you're sure to crack a rib.

I don't like falling out. I don't like taking a swim. I like the feeling of the ground beneath my shoes and the heat of fire in my hands. I'm safe as long as I can see where I'm going, where I'm running to, and I thought that that would help in the arena.

It didn't.

My first match was complete and utter hell. It wasn't even a sanctioned game, just a scrimmage between amateur teams that I was using to test the waters, feel my way into the sport. I tried my usual tricks for pushing forward, only to find that there was nowhere to push forward _to_. I was trapped between two lines, and nothing I was throwing was making contact. As I tried to run like hell, to safety, I found myself trapped again and again against the ropes, where I was constantly getting scraped off, like battered gum from a shoe. Off the ropes, into the drink, buzzer. That's how my first match went.

I took a swim all three rounds.

I tried and I tried to make it click, jumping from team to team to try and understand where I was going wrong. Where were my mistakes? I was dodging like the others, shooting like the others, hell, I was collecting a good collection of bruises, just like the others, but the rounds always ended the same.

_Boom._ Rock to the chest. Take a swim.

_Slap._ Water stream to the head. Take a swim.

_Fwoosh._ Fire to the legs. _Take a goddamn swim._

I was sick of it.

I wanted to quit, but I couldn't. If I made it here, I would never have to worry about losing ground. I'd be building my own island, serene in an ocean of uncertainty, and would never have to go back to being a scared little kid trying to sleep in a back alley. I'd be forever on solid ground.

Until finally, something hit me.

'Something' being an illegal shot to the head from an earthbender. He was dropped back the necessary penalty zone, but I saw in his face that it was no accident. I'd been matched up against his team before, and he knew me. He knew about the reputation I'd gotten as everyone's favorite target. I shook bits of clay from my head and gave the ref a go-ahead.

Even though I was pretty safe, still in the back of zone one, that damn earthbender was still coming for me, even making his own teammates dodge his attacks from behind. And it pissed me off. Sure, I probably wasn't making the best judgments, with my head still ringing from getting smacked by a twenty-pound chunk of clay, but I saw that he liked how I ran, how I danced and dodged from him. He liked how I was scared by him.

So, I asked myself, what do you do about assholes like him?

_You run like hell._

I had been running in the wrong direction the entire time. Running backwards, afraid, trying to cover my back… I wasn't running for solid ground. I was running for the drink, admitting that I'd rather take a swim than man up and attack.

Well, I ran the right way that day, for possibly the first time.

I elbowed the waterbender from my team aside and unleashed everything. I didn't hold back, until I was covered in sweat, steaming up my glass faceplate, and my team had advanced into the other team's zone two. My head was still pounding, but I was smiling like a complete fool because I saw the other team's earthbender panicking. He was looking for some way to shake me.

My two other teammates got pushed back, but I wasn't about to give up. Sure, as long as I stayed in zone two we would win the match, but I wasn't finished. I still had a whole zone to take over.

Their firebender took a swim.

Their waterbender followed, thanks to an assist from my teammates.

I could barely hear the announcer going wild through the rushing sound that was invading my ears, but I pushed him away. I wasn't here for him. I wasn't here for the cheering crowd. I was there, heading for solid ground, for _him_.

I have him up against the ropes, and he's not planning on going anywhere soon, blocking nearly everything I throw at him. He begins to slip, however, inch by precious inch.

I back up as I dodge some feeble attacks, and I see the perfect opening, as he lowers his arms to levitate another clay coin. I run forward, jump, and send as much fire as I can muster in his direction.

Time to take a swim.

I nearly slip over the line as I land, but a little hop keeps me upright, the only remaining man on this end of the arena.

There is a moment of shocked silence, and then the crowd is losing it, all shouting and screaming like crazy.

They've begun to chant my name, over and over again, and I giddily feel my teammates clapping me on the back and congratulating me. We've won on a knockout. And I was, incredibly enough, dry. No swim for me today. I felt beyond triumph. I felt beyond satisfaction.

I knew, as we were given our medals, that I could find my place here. I wasn't running away, anymore. I was running, like hell, to a better future for me and my brother.

And still, years after, I find myself banking on that old instinct, in and out of the ring. Run like hell, towards whatever ground looks most solid. When in doubt, remove yourself to a better situation.

And so I did.

"I think I'm gonna turn in," I said, shrugging away from the staircase I had been leaning against. Bolin's face informed me that he knew exactly what I was doing, and was grateful for it. Well, jolly for him. He gets to be besties with the Avatar, and I get a good night's rest. Everybody wins. "…You kids have fun." This last part I aim at him, and I know in my gut that he will tear me a new one for it. He always hated how I acted so superior because of our age difference, especially in front of the subjects of his flirtations.

As I walk past her, I catch a glimpse of her face. She is not impressed by me. She is not amused by me. I can live with that. "Nice meeting you, Avatar Korra," I say as respectfully as I can manage. Because as much as she irks me with her attitude, it's generally not very savvy to be on bad terms with the reincarnation of the world's most powerful people.

She says sarcastically, "Yeah. Been a real pleasure," completely proving my assumption about her attitude. She is by no means solid ground, and I do not intend to associate myself with her further. She is the open back of the ring, unseen, just waiting for me to trip off and take a swim.

"See you upstairs, bro," I depart with this being sent over my shoulder to Bolin. Hopefully the message can get past his thick hair and into his even thicker skull: Do not stay down here much longer.

Upstairs, I consider whether I had to alter my credo: Korra may have been unstable ground, but was that why I was running? Sure, I hated not knowing my next move, and the second she told Bolin who she was I felt every other option evaporate into thin air.

I shook my head, trying to clear it.

She was by no means an option, I tell myself repeatedly. She was too unpredictable.

But still, as I try and fall asleep, I remember that feeling, of getting smacked around against my will, that second of feeling so honest-to-god stupid… and I think of Korra.

That night, I can't shake the feeling that perhaps I'm running in the wrong direction.

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><p><strong>AN: **I love Mako. Seriously. Review, please.


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